


Good Pony

by InuShiek



Series: Equus [1]
Category: MTMTE - Fandom, Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Bondage, Food, Gags, Impact Play, In Public, M/M, Medical Kink, Multiple Partners, NSFW, Pony Play, Public Sex, Sticky, Vaginal Fingering, Whipping, mentions of:
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-05
Updated: 2014-12-05
Packaged: 2018-02-28 05:51:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2721149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InuShiek/pseuds/InuShiek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With all the strange looks Rodimus gets as he's lead through the Lost Light's coridoors toward the bar, he starts to wonder how long it's been. The crew didn't used to act surprised at this, had they forgotten that it used to be a regular thing?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Pony

**Author's Note:**

> I cannot focus on studying until I smashed this out.
> 
> First fic in the Pony Play tag say whaaaaaaaaaaaat
> 
> this is a [half pass](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RKB3wX_mMI0#t=81) done by an actual horse, by the way. it's at 1:16 in that video. [Here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K2eC1qLHLg0) it is when done by human ponies. BY THE WAY, I do not know how to train an actual dressage horse, but obviously human/Cybertronian ponies are smarter.
> 
> pony play is different from training actual horses!!! you can do things to a human pony that you never would an actual horse. mkay? just in case we're unclear on that, so don't go out like "I read a fic inu wrote once and I'm gonna teach my horse half passes~!" or something.
> 
> furthermore, this is one of the longest smut fics I've written in a while

Rodimus Prime was nervous. They've been waiting for days to hear back from Optimus, and so all they can do is hold position and be patient.

But "patient" isn't something the red and gold mech is really good at.

He tries to be. Really, he does, but Ultra Magnus grows tired of Rodimus hanging around aimlessly, picking up data pads, walking across the room, and dropping them onto tables they don't belong on.

It's on day four of waiting that Ultra Magnus snaps.

Rodimus froze in place at the order to stop pacing, and he watches the large blue bot dig around deep in his subspace for something.

At the first clink of metal on metal and the creak of leather, Rodimus Prime feels his interface components instantly heat. He remembers this game. He'll probably be paraded around the ship to get worked up before Magnus lets anyone touch him. He also remembers that the entire crew knows that a comm of "Red" meant that everything needed to stop that instant, and Ultra Magnus would never be far away.

Ultra Magnus hides his amusement when he detects the spike in the Prime's temperature. It has been far too long since they did this, so he doesn't drag out tacking the lithe mech up. First goes the bridle, with a simple and easy bit to take, complete with blinkers to keep him focused straight ahead. Magnus allows the reins to hang freely from the Prime's bit, knowing that he'll stand.

Fighting the urge to squirm, Rodimus allows his frame to be manipulated into the bindings. There are straps that trap his forearms to his upper arms, and Magnus covers his servos with mitts that render them useless. Then went the body harness, several soft leather straps that went around Rodimus's heating frame and are buckled tightly.

Ultra Magnus hears the aborted - _click_ \- of a panel trying to open, but he's proud that the Prime overrides the action. "Good boy," he praises, rubbing circles over the Prime's spark with his large hands in praise. Rodimus fidgets happily at that, attempting to smile and having to mouth at the bit to readjust his lips to a comfortable position.

Next goes the collar, a tall one that limits the small mech's range of motion and helps to further limit his visual range.

Lastly, Ultra Magnus locks Rodimus's ankles so they cannot flex. If they'd planned ahead, they could have asked Ratchet to adjust his kibble so that he was forced onto his toecaps, but this suffices in a pinch. It will force the mech to step up high in order for his feet to clear the deck plating and make for a more interesting show to watch than if his legs were left unfettered.  _Huh. "Fettered." Now there's an idea,_ the Magnus muses to himself, briefly considering hobbling the Prime. He surveys the mech, who is already trembling and running hot just from being tacked up. The hobbles can wait. He doesn't need Rodimus overloading during the walk to the bar.

Gathering the reins, Ultra Magnus clicks twice and walks off, knowing that Rodimus will be forced to follow. He doesn't spare a glance backwards as they walk, but he can hear Rodimus huff twice as his inflexible ankles nearly trip him up before the red mech remembers how to walk this way. They pass by Chromedome and Rewind, who look surprised, and Rodimus Prime's engine gives a barely stifled rev as the Magnus nods casually to the pair and continues leading Rodimus on.

They reach the mess hall's doorway at the same time as Tailgate and Cyclonus. Their optics brighten as they take in Rodimus's state, and then Tailgate coos after a moment of hesitation, stepping in close.

"Who's a pretty pony?" he praises, petting the Prime's flank. Tailgate turns to beam up at Cyclonus, and the former Decepticon deigns to lean down a bit to give the bound mech a pat as well. Truthfully, both the mechs want to get a grope in, but they can tell that Rodimus hasn't been allowed to open his panel yet, so touch anywhere near his interface array was still off limits. They head into the bar for some energon, leaving the pony and trainer alone after the door closes.

Rodimus whines, shifting impatiently. He knows that Magnus is lingering in the doorway on purpose to make him wait. All he wants is to have people petting and groping him and maybe someone will finger him like they did last time, or take him out for a quick lap of this hallway. Either way, Ultra Magnus knows that Rodimus wants to go in and is intent on making him wait.

The door of the bar opens again, and Ratchet exits the bar, quickly noticing the two mechs. He studies Rodimus before he smirks. "No hooves today, Magnus?"

"Not this time. Perhaps tomorrow if we don't have word yet."

Ratchet's optics darken a bit. "Well you just let me know. I caught up on physicals today since we've been holding position for so long. Now that I think about it, it's been a while since this little pony got a physical, hasn't it?"

"It has. Tomorrow morning, then?" Ultra Magnus arranges.

Rodimus squeezes his thighs together and huffs in frustration. The _idea_ of a physical made his charge spike so high that he nearly overloaded. Nearly. Normal physicals were a hassle, of course, but there was nothing normal about a pony physical. Last time Ratchet had been very thorough in making sure his intake had no injuries, sliding his finger almost down into this throat before-

Magnus clicks twice and pulls on then reins, dragging Rodimus out of his fantasy and through the doorway of the bar at last. He leads Rodimus over to a barstool and ties the reigns tightly to it's post, giving Rodimus very little room to move and stuck partially bent over.

The Prime's engine gives an appreciative rev.  _Technically_ you're not "supposed" to tie ponies this tightly, but Rodimus loves the restriction. The blinkers, collar, and tight tie have him able to see the barstool's post and the front panel of the bar, nothing more. He can hear the bots in the bar grow quiet as they process what they're seeing, and then their conversations resume.

"There's my favorite little pony!"

Rodimus hears Swerve speak only a moment before the minibot's servos are running up and down his back plating, tracing around his harness. "You thirsty, boy?"

Nodding as much as he can, Rodimus feels Swerve leave before returning with a cube of mid-grade. Swerve helps the Prime tilt his helm back and carefully drink some of the energon. Even without having practiced drinking while bitted in a long time, Roimus didn't spill a drop. This pleased Swerve to no end.

"Good boy! Who's a gorgeous little pony," he fairly coos, his servos running up and down the red and gold mech's flanks before delivering a brief pat goodbye to his chassis.

Rodimus can feel several gazes upon him, but he can't turn to look. He hasn't even been allowed to open his panel to entice them over to give him his favorite kind of petting.

"Something's wrong with this picture..." Whirl drawls, now standing behind Rodimus. The small mech stiffens. Sometimes Whirl feels that a pony isn't complete without a couple of scuffs from a spanking on his aft.

The Prime nearly squeals in surprise when an energon sweet is carefully popped into his mouth by the mech's claws. 

"Much better," he says, sounding like he just nodded in satisfaction. Whirl leaves, satisfied that he's thrown Rodimus off balance by changing his game up. Next time he won't know what to expect.

Unwilling to take it for granted, Rodimus happily rolls the sweet treat around with his glossa, slurping loudly around the bit to keep from drooling on the floor.

"What kind of joke is this?" Brainstorm asks, sounding unsure.

Ultra Magnus turns from watching Rodimus to the scientist. "Do you not remember? You can pet him, give him treats, take him for a walk, or play with his equipment if his panel is open- which it is not. You stop if he says so," he finishes simply, letting Brainstorm fill in the threat on his own.

Rodimus stomps, impatient now that he's finished his treat. Now that he thinks about it, he doesn't remember ever seeing Brainstorm around when he's been a pony before. He'd thought that the crew had been informed though. Maybe Brainstorm had been buried in work? Deciding it doesn't matter, the Prime wriggles his aft. He's pretty sure he can feel lubricant beginning to make its way past the seal of his panel. He hears Brainstorm move a bit closer. There's a long pause before fingertips ghost across his sides, but they're yanked away quickly.

"This is weird. I'm outta here," Brainstorm declares, downing what little remained of his high grade before he exits the bar.

Whining, the red and gold mech squirms. That's six mechs not including Magnus who have touched him, but he hasn't been allowed to open his panel yet and it's killing him.

Servos appear in front of him, and they begin working at untying his reins. "Hey there, boy. Wanna work for your treat? I've got a new trick to teach you- it's part of 'dressage' and you'll look great I think."

Finally straightening, Rodimus meets Drift's optics, blinking. Ultra Magnus hands Drift a crop, and the pony realizes that Drift has probably been plotting with the large mech. That's why he was left without attention for so long.

Drift gently rubs the crop against Rodimus's chassis, intending to prove that it wasn't always a painful thing, and Rodimus awkwardly follows the tug on the reins until they're in the center of the bar's dance floor, dozens of optics on them. Drift moves behind him and clicks, urging the Prime forward with a gentle shake of the reins. Rodimus obeys, and Drift directs him to walk a full circuit of the dance floor before he pulls the reins to the left to cut across the circle.

Rodimus turns as directed, but he feels the pressure of the crop against his left side. Assuming Drift has just lost track of the crop and it's an accidental prod, the pony continues making his left turn.

That earns him a sharp smack of the crop against his flank.

A sharp gasp in surprise, and Rodimus turns back to the right- away from the sting that the crop left on his left side.

Drift guides him to walk the full circle again before he repeats the gentle tug on the reins to the left.

This time, when Rodimus feels the touch of the crop on his flank, he bows his body away from it and stops walking.

Drift moves the crop to the outside of the Prime's right thigh and clicks with a slight pull of the bit to the left, urging the pony into motion.

Hesitantly, Rodimus steps straight forward. The crop slaps the outside of his right thigh, and he squeals, leg reflexively swinging left to escape the sting left behind.

"Gooood pony!" Drift praises, dropping the crop away from Rodimus's frame and giving him several long, rewarding strokes along his flank.

Rodimus freezes, trying to figure out what he could have possibly done. He was just moving away from the crop!

After sufficient praising, Drift clicks to get Rodimus to move straight forward again. The pony obeys, still stepping high to compensate for his locked ankles. After a complete circuit, Drift once again gently tugs the bit to the left and presses the crop against the lithe little pony's left flank.

He hesitates to diverge from his path, still unsure what Drift wants him to do. When he continues in his straight path, Drift removes the crop from Rodimus's left side and, quick as Blurr, slaps it against the outside of his pony's right thigh.

Startled and confused, Rodimus's right leg jerks away from the sting, swinging in front of his left leg. Rodimus lands on it and has to quickly shuffle his left leg out to regain his balance.

"Gooooooood boy!!!" Drift praises again, even louder and more exaggerated than before as he gives long, happy strokes to Rodimus's flank before reaching over and patting him on his chassis.

Then it clicks.

After several more moments of verbal and physical praise, Drift resets his grip on the reigns and crop. He clicks, and Rodimus moves forward into the circle of the dance floor once more. He catches a glimpse of Ultra Magnus watching intently, and his core temp raises even further. That is  _absolutely_ the feel of lubricant dripping down his thighs. As he continues the circle, this time he spots Rung among the spectators, who is leaned forward in his chair, elbows propped up on the table and observing closely.

The gentle pull to the left finally comes, along with the pressure of the crop against his left flank.

This time Rodimus is sure he's got it.

He swings his right leg around in front of his left, doing almost a diagonal walk. It takes some work to swing his left leg around with his ankles uncooperative, but he manages. This time he repeats the process a second time, and Drift stops him with pressure on the bit. "Goooooood boy! Very good pony! So smart," he coos, using both hands now to rub Rodimus's sides in praise.

Engine revving happily, the pony contentedly mouths at the bit. "Good pony," Drift repeats, bringing the reins back in front of Rodimus before he slides a treat into the Prime's bitted mouth. Rodimus's optics flicker offline in pleasure as the sweet energon candy hits his glossa. He doesn't even power his optics back up as Drift clicks, trusting the mech not to lead him into a wall.

"And what was that called, again?"

"Dressage. Well,  _that_ was a 'half pass,' but it's part of dressage. There are tons of different moves in it, the half pass is just one of my favorites," Drift explains, handing the reigns to the Magnus when prompted.

Ultra Magnus hums. "I would not object to seeing you teach him more, if you're willing?"

"Of course! He'll make a fine little dressage pony. All clean lines and curves. It can take a long time to learn, though."

"He has nothing but time," Ultra Magnus replies, and Rodimus's charge nearly peaks again with how casually they're discussing him.  _Pits_ but it turns him on.

"Ahem, if I may?"

Rodimus cranes his body around to see Rung.

"I'm done with him for now," Drift shrugs, popping another treat into Rodimus's mouth before he hops up onto a barstool.

Ultra Magnus hands the reins to Rung, and the little orange mech clicks, tugging Rodimus over to bend over onto one of the other stools. The therapist runs his servos from Rodimus's collar, down his back, skips over his aft, and kneads the Prime's thighs. "May I?" he asks, looking over at the Magnus.

Rodmus's engine revs eagerly, his need to overload only increased when it isn't even him that Rung is asking for access.

"Open," Magnus says simply.

The pony groans in relief as he finally opens his panel with permission, and he can hear lubricant platter to the floor between his feet as his spike jams against the barstool. Rodimus is panting now, his vents unable to keep up with his excess heat production. He knows he's close to being granted overload, and that only makes him need it more.

There is a long moment when nothing happens. Rung's touch does not return, and the pony begins to fear the Rung wandered off.

His collar is swiftly pulled bakwards, forcing him to arch, before three digits suddenly slam into his valve. The pony overloads hard, legs giving way so that the only thing holding him up is the stool. Rung continues to rub firmly at his valve's walls, and Rodimus's incoherent screaming slowly morphs into a pleasured keening as his charge continues releasing.

Rung pulls his fingers free before the bound mech is even finished overloading, and he takes a napkin from the bar to wipe his hand clean. "Certainly enthusiastic, isn't he?" he muses aloud as he pets Rodimus's heaving flanks with his now clean hand. It had been so long that the orange mech had forgotten how wound up this could actually make Rodimus. "Thank you, Ultra Magnus," he says, smiling a bit. 

"You're welcome, Rung," the blue mech acknowledges with a nod. "If you'll excuse me, I think this little pony is worn out. He's out of shape."

Rodimus heaves himself off of the barstool when the Magnus pulls on his reigns, and he stumbles after him toward the door.

"I'll work him out any time!" someone else calls, with several mechs agreeing as they watch Rodimus struggle to high step after the mech holding his reigns, lubricant still dripping down his thighs.

"Good boy," Ultra Magnus praises briefly with a quick pat over the Prime's spark. He clicks, and the pony follows him at a walk. Which doesn't suit the blue mech right now. Quickening his own pace, he clicks at the pony again. Rodimus barely hesitates before he pushes himself into a careful trot, still forced to step high with his locked ankles. Ultra Magnus merely has to lengthen the stride of his walk to have the pony trotting swiftly at his heels.

When they've finally returned to Ultra Magnus's office/quarters, Rodimus is running hot again, with fresh lubricant streaking down his thighs. They'd encountered several bots on their way here, but they hadn't stopped and so Rodimus hadn't gotten any petting or groping. Only pausing for the door to open, Ultra Magnus walks Rodimus trough his office and into his quarters.

Rodimus doesn't need direction anymore, but he lets the large mech lead him to the berth all the same before he clambers up onto it on his knees. One of the Magnus's servos engulfs the back of his helm and pushes it down into the berth, leaving the pony's aft high in the air. He squirms, valve clenching on its own and achingly empty.

"Good pony," the mech says before he buries his spike in the small mech's more-than-ready valve, triggering the very grateful pony's second overload.


End file.
